Marcus's Short Stories
by Marcus Jackson
Summary: Hi, every week i will delve into the Forgotten Realms world and pull out a story with OC's rather than the typical Drizzt Do'Urden fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it as I begin with one of my older entries "The Professional" Please Read and Review and i'll s


Professional  
  
The streets were deserted, and as Calvin walked through the dark back alleys of Loan he wondered if all this was really worth it. Calvin was once a thief of little renown, a strictly small time pickpocket that barely survived on the meager amount he was able to steal; it was a simple life, and often a good one. But Calvin had bigger ideas, he had tried out for one of the local thieves guild and had somehow miraculously passed all of their tests and inspections, albeit barely. At the time he had been ecstatic; the guild master had given him a job immediately.  
"You are the all important guild messenger," he had said with a more than obvious smirk gracing his worn and wrinkled face. "You know the streets of Loan well, yes?"  
"Yes, of course!" Calvin had said in a feeble attempt to show his usefulness to the powerful guild master. "More like errand boy," he said to himself as he neared his destination, a small alley behind The Silent Blade a well-known inn frequented by thieves and cutthroats. As Calvin reached the appointed meeting place he wondered where his contact was, and was more than a little frustrated that he would have to wait for the unceremoniously late assassin.  
"I am never late," a serious toned voice behind him, muttered with more than a little annoyance at the preposterous unspoken statement.  
Calvin whirled dagger flashing at the unseen foe behind him and struck only air. Already off balance from a poorly executed attack he was easily knocked to the ground with a light prodding from the agile figure beside him. Even as Calvin face hit the ground he could feel the seasoned hand of the warrior behind him expertly twist his wrist as he clamped his boot on the young thief's face.  
"Who?" the young thief sputtered in an attempt to delay the inevitable consequences his rash actions had brought upon him.  
"None of your concern," the figure replied as he loosened his grip on Calvin's hand and retracted the boot from his face.  
Calvin got up slowly and turned to face his attacker only to fall again at the realization of who was that had so easily dispatched him. Even in the dark he could make out the ebony skin and pointed ears that marked this one as a drow, evil dark elves, the creators of wondrous subterranean cities and the infamous assassins of the night. While few ever came to the surface the ones that did were usually the most deadly among their kind, and this one was.  
"Velkyn!" he said with as much surprise in his voice as there was respect at the meeting of such a respected figure in the ranks of thieves and assassins.  
Calvin's thoughts began whirling in his head even as he steadied his legs before him. He had attacked Velkyn! Calvin had actually raised a weapon against the most agile, cunning, clever, and deceitful assassin in all of Loan. By all accounts he should have been dead already, yet here he stood.  
"I agree you should be dead." The drow once again answered Calvin's unspoken question and smiled at the look of confusion on the younger thief's face. Velkyn waggled his finger briefly displaying a ring he wore more to himself than the ignorant thief before him. It was a magical item granting him the power to read others, minds and shielding him from others trying to do the same. Picking up another thought he looked to the young thief's left side. Taking the parchment hanging loosely at Calvin's hip he scanned the contents quickly and smiled briefly before handing it back and nodding in agreement. "Consider it done."  
Even as Calvin began to give some sort of response, the drow was up and away climbing onto the roof of a nearby building and disappearing into the enveloping darkness around him. Calvin slapped his forehead in the sudden realization that he had not given the assassin his payment for the act he was to commit and reached to his pouch to check the jewels that he had so foolishly neglected to give. He felt only air.  
"Damn, he's good," he muttered before he hurriedly returned to his guild  
  
Standing near a copse of trees, Velkyn stared up at the castle looming before him, he cared not for its size a small stronghold probably about four or five stories high, and he cared nothing for the craftsmanship beautifully done with one large tower coming out of the top. No, he thought only of the ways he could infiltrate and complete the task before him. A certain duke by the name of Jarat Balangar had overstepped his bounds in blackmailing a rival duke about a certain tavern maid that he had been adulterous with and now he had to die. And die he shall.  
The soundless footsteps of the agile drow as he ran fluidly across the ground nearing Jarat's compound were simply a testament to all of the training and hard work he had endured. Even has he reached the high walls of the castle before him he showed no signs of slowing as he began climbing the sheer surface with as much speed as before, as he came upon a low window he took a look inside. Peering through the expanse before him he let his gaze shift to the infrared spectrum training his glare on heat rather than actual sight. The myriad of colors shone before him startled him as he could make out the heat outlined footprints that had previously passed through here. While most were of little use to him, two sets caught his eye, one with a small outline almost smothered by a larger second set.  
"A duke and his guard," he muttered, thinking that a personal guard might make this a little harder than he had previously thought but still, he was not overly worried.  
As he slipped through the window he made sure to be extra careful in his approach past the routine guards sleeping in their rooms. He could hear their lumbering bodies heave up and down in their sleep and saw no reason to interrupt them. Continuing up a narrow flight of stairs he cautiously kept to the shadows in an attempt to ward off any unseen attackers seeing him, and soon his stealth was rewarded. Looking ahead to the dual guards standing before him, he quickly formulated a plan. He was to wait. Pulling back into the recesses of the shadows cast by the dimly lit torches along the corridor he began to edge closer taking care to keep to the darkness. Watching as they slipped in and out of sleep he stood, muscles tensed, staring ahead and waiting for the guards to fall into sleep for even a second. They did, and he was upon them.  
Charging silently forward like a specter in the night, the guards did not even realize they were being attacked until he was too close to be stopped. Even as they fumbled with their swords in a futile attempt to wrest them from their sheaths Velkyn had them by the throats giving a slight smirk as they crumbled before him their bodies falling into a tangled heap. Velkyn had placed a powerful sedative on his gloves, and those two would not awaken until late tomorrow morning. It was not the drow's place to take their lives, he was not paid to, and to kill them would be... unprofessional.  
After greasing the hinges of the small but ornate unguarded door he pushed it forward soundlessly and entered the darkened room. Easily adjusting his eyes to the darkness he walked to the duke's bedside and placing a gloved hand on his face watched as the man lapsed into an almost comatose state of slumber. Reaching to his belt to draw a small dagger (his favored killing weapon), Velkyn instead went to his hip and drawing the katana at his side, swung in an upward arc behind him deflecting a descending blade. Then turning on his heel and springing to an upright position he parried two more sloppy attacks from his unseen opponent.  
An average-sized man bearing the duke's coat of arms across his chest stood confidently waving a large two-handed sword ahead of him.  
"No assassin will take the life of my liege no matter who he is," he said with determined confidence. But Velkyn only chuckled at the thought.  
The man swung his sword clumsily a few times and could only watch in awe as the drow before simply sidestepped his blows visibly yawning at the sorry attempt to strike him. Thoroughly angered the man began to swing faster but more and more wildly as he came farther and farther from hitting his target. Velkyn could see that the man was beginning to tire and knew that he would take any opportunity presented to him.  
Velkyn turned, leaving his cloak trailing behind him. Taking this as a sign of retreat the personal guard thrusted his sword forward into the bodiless cloak ahead of them.  
"I will not kill you," a teasing voice at his left ear whispered as a hand caressed his neck, and then all went black.  
  
The man awoke as the light of dawn poured through the open window at his left and frantically scurried to his feet only to find his duke slain, a dagger still protruding from his chest. Feeling a sharp pain he tugged at a small dagger in his back with a note attached answering the question gnawing at his mind.  
"Because I'm a professional." 


End file.
